


Façade

by Ruenis



Series: Forget-me-not [1]
Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fae & Fairies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-26 16:49:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7582081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruenis/pseuds/Ruenis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, a prince fell in love with a faery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“ _Faeries are dangerous,”_ he had been told, _“If you see a faery, stay away from it.”_

They _attempt_ to keep him out of the forest, failing time and time again as he sneaks out of the castle through some open window or obscure route. It does not help that his older sister does absolutely _nothing_ to help, and actually _encourages_ the behaviour. According to her, such behaviour is completely appropriate and acceptable, so long as he returns safe – that, and she secretly hopes his sneaking out so often finally means he has become interested in someone.

 _And so_ , Kaizuka Inaho makes it his _duty_ to avoid the guards and sneak out of the castle nearly every day just so he can wander the forest outside of the city. It is not all that hard. The guards are so few and so scattered – Yuki-nee keeps them patrolling the city and keeping the peace there instead.

 _And so_ , when Inaho finds a sleeping.. _person?_ in the forest, he allows his curiosity to get the best of him. He approaches the sleeping figure slowly, sandals quietly _clip clopping_ against the grass, though the figure does not stir.

They are dressed plainly – Inaho realises this particular person is male, wearing an open vest that seems to be made of leaves, exposing his chest. His skin is pale, _extremely pale,_ Inaho notes, and an arm is slung over his eyes. His hair, too, is the lightest shade of blond. His pants look to be made of fibers of some sort, and he has no shoes on.

Taking a few steps forward, Inaho crouches down beside him, gazing at what little of his face he can see. He _seems_ human enough, though..

“ _No humans are allowed to live in the woods. No humans are allowed to wander the woods uninvited. That was the deal we made with the faeries.”_

Inaho reaches out slightly, fingertips grazing the blond's arm, _If Yuki-nee knew I was spending my time in the forest.._

The blond sighs quietly and turns on his side, giving his back to Inaho. He is still asleep when Inaho's breath catches.

 _Wings. He has wings,_ Inaho realises, freezing. _And pointed ears,_ he realises seconds later, the blond's arm having slipped, his hair having moved just enough to reveal them. His heart picks up – _because even though he expected it, he had not really thought he would come across a faery_ – and he slowly stands back up, taking a few steps backward.

 _I should have realised sooner,_ he thinks to himself; most humans in the area look similar to him and _nothing_ like the blond, _the humans here are not nearly as interesting looking._

_snap!_

“Oh..” Inaho breathes in sharply and stands still, trying not to crush the twig further under his sandal.

The faery sits up almost immediately, looking over in Inaho's direction.

Inaho exhales when the faery's teal eyes flicker upward, meeting his own dark brown ones.

The faery looks confused just for a moment, having not expected to wake up to find a human here, most likely. Then, his features shift to that of slightly annoyed concern. “You shouldn't be here,” the faery says, his voice careful, soft, and –

_He can speak our language?_

“You need to leave. Now,” the faery says firmly, getting up and brushing the leaves off of his pants, “I assume you weren't invited here. We don't usually take an interest in humans unless they trespass.” Walking toward the brunet, he grabs his wrist and starts to pull him in the direction that leads to the path back to the city, the only path that goes from the city and through the woods. And then, again, “ _You shouldn't be here._ ”

Inaho follows, surprised by the blond's surprising strength; the faery is thin, and has much less muscle structure than some humans his size would.

“You're lucky I was the one that you disturbed,” the faery mumbles, sounding upset, “If it were any of the others, you wouldn't be here.”

“You're saying they would have taken me,” Inaho says, his toneless voice causing the blond to stop and look at him.

“You don't sound afraid of that,” the faery says, frowning at the brunet, “They would make you dance until you die, you know.”

 _So that is true. There's been no way to prove that,_ Inaho thinks, gazing at the other. “That doesn't sound like a punishment.”

The faery's eyes widen in surprise, then. “It is. You'd be forced to dance every single night, trapped in our realm, unable to leave until you wake up. Humans can't survive without sleep. You would eventually collapse and die,” he says, tone holding no malice; he is merely stating facts. His grip is still firm on Inaho's wrist, forceful, but not painful.

 _He doesn't want to hurt me,_ Inaho realises, gaze flickering to the faery's wings. They flutter every-so-often, and do not seem to be bent despite him sleeping on his back and side.

He is still dangerously curious.

“What's your name?” he asks, earning another wide-eyed look.

“Are you _serious_?”

“I've never had the pleasure of meeting a faery before,” Inaho says, and though that should have come out excited or eager, he is still expressionless and hard to read. “I'm Kaizuka Inaho.”

“Kaizu–..” The faery lets go of Inaho at the comment, glaring now. “What the hell is the _prince_ doing, wandering around the forest? You understand better than the other humans the danger of being here.”

Inaho stays quiet for a second, and then cocks his head. “I've never had the pleasure of meeting a faery before,” he repeats, voice still dry.

The blond's glare deepens. He is _not_ amused. “This isn't a game,” he hisses, teal eyes narrowing. He looks around, body tense –

“ _You shouldn't be here.”_

The thought pops into Inaho's head as he continues to gaze at the taller male. He had never considered the consequences of him being both human _and_ royalty, what might happen to him if he was discovered by either the faeries or the guards. Now, he supposes the faeries will definitely hold him captive during his slumber, and that yes, he probably would expire after a week or so. The guards and his sister would both probably prevent him from leaving the city – perhaps even the castle – ever again, leading to his confinement.

_But still.._

“Here. Eat this.”

Inaho blinks, and realises that the faery is holding something out. He had not noticed him move. Looking down, he finds some white petals in the faery's hand. “Why?”

“Eat them,” the faery repeats, “I'll tell you why after.”

Inaho takes them slowly, and lifts one to his lips. They feel waxy in his fingers, and still smell.

A petunia flower.

 _The_ **petals** _of a petunia,_ Inaho amends, putting one in his mouth. The sweet taste catches him by surprise. The petal is hard to chew, but it smells nice and tastes _sweet_ , like some type of candy.

“All of them,” the faery says, frowning somewhat. He seems to have relaxed a bit, but is obviously still upset that the prince cannot make better decisions.

Inaho does as instructed, and eats the rest of the petals as quickly as he can; they go down a bit hard, without water, but he notices the faery relax even further upon him swallowing the rest of them.

“Good. Now the queen no longer has to worry about her _moronic_ younger brother being kidnapped by a faery,” the blond says, though he is not quite looking at the other. He seems to be scanning the area instead, presumably making sure they are still alone.

“Will you tell me your name, now?”

The faery makes a face, still not amused with Inaho's lack of emotion. Still, he answers: “Slaine. It's Slaine.”

* * *

 

“Are you _serious_?” Slaine demands, “ _Why_ would you – Do you even _have_ a brain between those ears of yours? Why in the world would you come back here?”

He looks _baffled, appalled_ by Inaho's behaviour.

Inaho stands before him, clad in a similar outfit from yesterday; the sandals sound too loud in the forest, out of place. His face is still hard to read, but he almost looks _curious_ with the way his eyes are lit up. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Slaine groans, rubbing an eye with the back of his hand. “You really _are_ crazy..”

This cannot be good.

“Since I ate those petals yesterday, you said that the other faeries wouldn't be able to kidnap me. That's because you were the first person to feed me something, correct?”

“Correct,” Slaine mumbles.

“Which means _you're_ the only one with the power to take me to the faery realm. Correct?”

“Yes,” Slaine murmurs, frowning at the other now. He understands where the brunet is going with this: it means he can safely traverse the forest with no fear of being whisked away by anyone other than the one faery who had actually saved him.

Inaho smiles slightly at that, seeming to realise that Slaine understood rather quickly.

“What did you want to ask me?” Slaine asks, hoping that if he answers the brunet will leave him alone and _not_ come back.

“If you wanted to marry me.”

And right then, when Slaine's face goes completely red from sheer embarrassment and shock, Inaho knows that coming to the forest was definitely a good idea on his part.

* * *

 

“Marry me?”

“Not today,” Slaine murmurs, gazing at his reflection in the pond's near still water. Dragonflies dip down and disturb it every few seconds, making his reflection shaky and uneven; still, it is a better mirror than the lake filled with fish and birds.

Inaho stands behind him, a frown on his features. “Why not?” he asks.

Slaine hums at the question, giving it just a second of thought. “Because I don't want to,” he says, crouching down to dip his hands in the water. He cups a small bit and pours it over the tip of one wing, his balance almost immediately faltering; he catches himself before falling backward, and adjusts himself until he is sitting on the grass.

The brunet watches the faery do the same to the other wing, soaking the delicate, translucent thing in water. “You said that yesterday,” he murmurs, “and the day before.”

“And my answer hasn't changed. I still don't want to marry you,” Slaine says, a smirk pulling on the corners of his lips. “You humans are stubborn. You've asked me one hundred twenty-seven times, now. You do know you're under a spell, right?” He lifts his head just enough to look at Inaho's reflection in the water – his smirk and heart both falter at the serious look on his face.

“I'm not under a spell,” Inaho murmurs, gaze flickering down to meet Slaine's eyes.

Slaine tears his gaze away, heart caught in his throat. “I've asked before, but how in the world do you keep escaping that castle of yours?” he asks, changing the subject, “They should keep a better eye on their prince.”

Inaho shrugs, gaze still firm on the pretty teal colour that makes up the faery's eyes. “It isn't a challenge to lose the guards. Locating you, however..”

“I try _not_ to be found,” Slaine mumbles, “I don't know how you do that, either. You're just a regular human.” He pulls his hands out of the water, now, having soaked what part of his wings he can reach, and instead rests his feet in the small pool.

Inaho slowly sits himself beside the faery, though he keeps his legs away from the water, and looks across the pond at a small bush with purple berries. They look ripe, but seeing that they look untouched.. they are probably poisonous, or at least bitter. “.. I do like you, you know,” he murmurs after a moment.

Slaine wastes no time refuting the comment: “No, you don't.”

* * *

 

In Inaho's eyes, Slaine is a beautiful faery.

He did not have a favourite colour before meeting Slaine, but now, it is the teal, bluish-green colour of his eyes. He did not think much of hair until seeing just how light Slaine's hair is in the sun, how close it is to white and just how _beautiful_ it looks against his pale skin.

.. not that he would ever say any of that aloud. Slaine would just say, _“it's because of that spell on you”._

But there is no spell; Inaho would know if he were under some spell.

Sighing, the brunet shifts his gaze to the small of Slaine's back, where his wings are; they resemble a dragonfly's, though he only has the two. The pattern resembles a mosaic, and though they are translucent, they sometimes shine in an array of colours when the light hits them.

Slaine is the first faery he has been able to get this close to, so to be able to study him up close..

“Amazing,” Inaho murmurs, causing the blond to turn and look at him.

“What is?”

“Your wings,” Inaho answers easily, holding a hand out, “May I?”

Slaine tenses momentarily, taken by surprise by the request. “I'll allow that,” he says, “But you can't ask me that question again today.”

_'_ **That** _' question._

“Deal,” Inaho says instantly; he was advised to lay off with the marriage proposal anyway, lest he really upset the faery. He reaches forward slowly, fingertips grazing the edge of Slaine's wing.

Slaine stays perfectly still, watching the brunet curiously.

This person, Inaho Kaizuka, is the very first human he has become remotely used to; he tends to avoid them when he can, and usually hides when he hears them coming too close. He also tries to avoid Inaho, and has found that he cannot – the brunet _always_ finds him.

Other than the fact that avoiding Inaho is impossible.. he _has_ become increasingly interested in just how the human world operates. Obviously, they do not keep their royalty in check, nor do they keep their magick in check, considering Inaho's current condition..

Inaho's finger follows the small lines and indents along the wing, tracing the mosaic-like pattern. He stays quiet, a hint of fascination in his brown eyes. He expected the wings to feel weak, delicate, but it is surprisingly tough, despite feeling similar to silk. The wing would be smooth if not for the ridges, indents and patterns inlaid in it, and it does not seem to have any nerves or muscle structure.. “How do you fly?” he asks; he has never actually seen Slaine do it, nor has he seen him in the miniature faery form faeries usually take.

“Faery dust,” Slaine says without hesitation.

Inaho would take him seriously if it were not for the playful smirk on his lips. “That isn't true.”

“You don't know that,” Slaine murmurs, shrugging, “You don't know anything about me.”

Painfully true. But only because Slaine refuses to talk about himself, and will not usually answer questions when asked. He only knows that _maybe_ Slaine lives by himself _somewhere_ in this forest.

_That, and.._

Inaho pulls his hand away and leans backward, finding a small pile of blue petals and white carpels beside Slaine's hand.

_.. Slaine_ **might** _be sick._

* * *

 

“Do you have a monarchy?” Inaho asks, sincerely curious. _One day,_ he figures, _he'll tell me about himself. But learning about his culture is fine for now._

Today, they are in a different part of the forest, further away from human civilization, from the city and castle that Inaho calls home; it had taken Inaho a bit longer to find the faery, but had managed thanks to the oddly placed flowers along the way. He learned a few weeks ago that Slaine does not keep the flowers he brings, instead planting them around the forest to start a large-scale meadow. That, and.. Slaine also not-so-subtly hinted for a fourth time that he has no intention of giving away where he lives.

A smirk tugs on Slaine's lips as he lifts his head, teal lighting up playfully. “You must be thinking of _Titania_ , queen of the faeries,” he says, amusement clear in his tone.

“Slaine..” Inaho sighs, frowning slightly.

“Or, perhaps you're thinking of ' _Oberon_ '? Lord of the fey?” Slaine teases, allowing himself to grin smugly at the brunet, obviously amused with his own jokes.

“You and I both know those are fictional characters,” Inaho points out; it does not sully Slaine's mood.

“ _You_ don't know that. Faery lore is very well..–” Slaine stops suddenly, bringing his hands to his mouth. He coughs into them, once, twice, and then turns around to hide his face, coughing again. He turns back around slowly, gripping something in his fist, “I.. think that's enough for today..” He sounds almost _nervous_ , what with his soft tone.

Inaho leans forward somewhat, trying to see what is hidden in his hand. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Fine,” Slaine murmurs, though when he coughs a fourth time, he is unable to bring his other hand to his mouth in time. He keeps his mouth shut instead for a moment, and then says, “I'll see you tomorrow.”

Inaho catches a hint of something blue against the inside of Slaine's cheek, something that had not been there before. Still, he does not press. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

 

Slaine rarely allows Inaho to get close to him.

Inaho asked to look at his eyes this time, insists that they are different than human ones.

He gave in when Inaho promised a thorough explanation as to why.

And that is why.. right now, Inaho is very gently cupping one side of Slaine's face, tilting his head so that he can properly look at his eyes. Their height difference forces Inaho to look upward more, unless Slaine is looking down at him, so he is grateful that Slaine is allowing him to touch him.

“How do you see?”

Slaine blinks at the question, confusion written clearly on his features. His eyes narrow somewhat and he frowns, wondering if this is some sort of trick question. “With my eyes,” he says seriously, no amusement in his tone, “The same way you do.”

“But you don't have pupils..” Inaho points out softly, returning the frown with a slight one of his own.

“Pupils?” Slaine echoes.

_Ah, right._

Slaine seems to know little about humans, and has mentioned before that he is only interested in their literature.

 _If faeries lack something that humans have.. he wouldn't know about it,_ Inaho thinks. “Do you see the black dots in my eyes?” he asks, earning a slight nod. “Those are pupils. They absorb light, making it possible for us to see. The iris, the part where our eyes have colour, is supposed to regulate the pupil by allowing it to expand or contract. You, however, lack pupils, and only have an iris. Logically, if you're missing one part, your eyes shouldn't be able to work – you shouldn't be able to see. If you were missing another part, say the part that detects colour, then you would be only colourblind. Since you don't have a pupil..”

“.. I shouldn't be able to see, is what you're saying,” Slaine finishes, earning a nod. “I suppose our magick might have something to do with it. All faeries have the same kind of eyes as I do. Like humans, the only difference is colour,” he says, looking closer at Inaho's own eyes. “You said the pupils expand and contract? For what reasons?”

“They contract in the light, to allow less light in so that our eyes don't get damaged, and dilate in the darkness to allow more light to come in so we can see,” Inaho answers, staying still to allow the faery to look his eyes over.

“Is that all?”

“They.. also dilate when feeling certain emotions,” Inaho says carefully.

Slaine hums, then, mulling the new information over in his head.

Inaho pulls away from the faery, gaze slipping.

“So, humans have trouble seeing at night? And that's why your pupils are large?” Slaine asks, able to come to the conclusion with the new information Inaho has provided him with.

Thankfully he did not overshare.

“Yes,” Inaho says, nodding; a half-lie, but still a half-truth nonetheless.

If he were to say it was the result of simply _looking_ at Slaine, whom he adores so, the faery would probably get upset.

* * *

 

Inaho finally realises what the source of the petals is when Slaine starts coughing again. When the blond pulls his hand away, there are assorted flower parts in his palms; he does not bother to hide them like the last time.

Blue petals with just slightly varying sizes, yellow and white carpels..

It takes just a second to figure out what type of flower it is.

_A forget-me-not flower._

He only knows because Slaine made a comment about them last week, and showed him a patch of them near some lake.

“Does that hurt?” Inaho asks quietly, watching as Slaine cradles the flower parts in his hands. He is sitting across from the blond, inquisitive brown eyes looking over Slaine's slender throat. The coughing is not particularly violent, and the times he has coughed before do not seem to hurt him.

Oddly enough, they are not covered in saliva nor stomach acid, and they are almost always intact. He has seen Slaine crush the flowers and reuse them for fertilizer, allowing him to assume they are free from contaminates; although until now, he did not know Slaine was actually coughing them up.

They are actually very beautiful flowers, but they are not Inaho's favourite shade of blue. They are a few shades of blue-green off.

“Does.. what hurt?” Slaine asks, letting the flowers slip from his hands and litter the ground. Unlike before, he does not feel the need to meticulously stack or pile them upon each other, now that Inaho knows about his.. _well, I suppose it would be called an 'oddity'?_

“Coughing up the flowers. Does it hurt?” Inaho asks, rewording the question just a bit so that Slaine understands. He gestures to his own throat, “If you cough up flowers.. then they should travel up your throat, correct? From your stomach?”

Slaine blinks, answering, “It doesn't hurt..” He sounds confused; the flowers have not ever once hurt him or affected his health in any way.

“Are.. you going to be alright?” Inaho asks, voice low.

Coughing up flowers, he assumes, is not very typical of faeries. He cannot be sure because not much is known about them, but given the fact that Slaine _did_ try to hide it from him..

“I'm going to be fine,” Slaine murmurs, gently kicking some dirt over the flowers. He covers them with his feet, stopping just for a moment to gaze at the underside of his foot: it is covered in a fine layer of brown dust and yellow pollen, thanks to his walking around outside barefoot.

“Is there a reason you hid them from me before?”

“I thought you'd find it odd, or unsettling. But it's a bother to continue to hide it, so..” Slaine lifts his head just for a moment, “I gave it some thought and came to the conclusion that you would find it fascinating, instead. I was right.”

He goes quiet after the comment, allowing Inaho a moment to stare.

The faery's eyes, hair, his lips.. Inaho's gaze lingers on Slaine's lips, painted a light shade of red, probably from whatever he had eaten for breakfast.

 _'I was right', he says.._ Inaho thinks, _He was. He knows I wouldn't see him in a negative light because of the 'spell' he thinks I'm under.._

Slaine lifts his head after a few minutes, teal eyes flickering between brown and the small, golden circlet around Inaho's head. “If.. I were a human..” he starts to say, quiet, slow, “.. would.. would you.. pursue me as relentlessly as you do now?”

Raising a hand, Inaho's fingertips find the golden thing, causing him to frown. He has yet to ask, but Slaine seems to have a problem with him being royalty. “Yes,” he answers, looking the blond in the eye.

Slaine sighs, gaze slipping. “I see. I'll see you tomorrow, then.”

 _That's my cue to leave,_ Inaho thinks to himself, getting up from the small log he has come to grown used to; it does not cause his back to ache as much anymore. “I'll see you tomorrow,” he says, bowing his head slightly.

* * *

 

“Slaine..?”

Opening an eye at the familiar voice, Slaine finds himself gazing upward at the brunet. “You're late,” he murmurs, an annoyed look on his features.

Inaho is standing, feet just mere inches from Slaine's head. He sits down after a moment, breathing harder than usual, lips slightly parted.

The faery cannot help his curiosity. “Did.. did you _run_ all the way here?” he asks, opening his other eye to properly look at the prince. He purses his lips upon seeing how _horribly_ Inaho is dressed, compared to his usually immaculate appearance.

His clothes are all out of place, and torn at some parts, as well as covered in small, green coloured burs. Even his hair is messy, laced with twigs and leaves. The circlet that usually keeps his hair in place is absent, as well as his earrings. He could be mistaken for someone part of the normal human populace.

Inaho nods slightly, still breathless, “I ran.”

“What.. happened to you?” Slaine asks, “Did you jump out of a window?”

It was meant to be sarcastic.

“I did exactly that,” Inaho murmurs, nodding again. “My.. birthday was today. And Yuki-nee, she.. she invited guests. She wanted me to keep dancing until the early morning..”

_Ah._

“So you jumped out of a window. A perfectly normal reaction,” Slaine says, smirking up at the brunet, “Really, you _are_ insane. In love with a faery under the guise of a spell, and prone to doing dangerous things.. it's a wonder she hasn't wedded you off, yet.”

Inaho frowns slightly, though he cannot manage to keep it through his exhaustion. Instead, he chooses a simpler retort: “If I'm to be married, it's to you.” He is serious, always has been regarding the subject.

The comment is enough for Slaine to glare at him.

“ _I wanted to see you,_ ” Inaho says, voice soft and gentle and _sincere_ , “I wanted to see you, so I..”

Slaine stays quiet, gaze slipping to the grass.

Inaho sighs, breathing slowly returning to normal; being pampered by his older sister does nothing for his stamina, though making everyday trips to the forest has steadily improved it a bit. He continues gazing down at Slaine's face, noting the hurt that clouds his features nearly each time he brings the subject up.

Neither of them speak a word, the chirps of cricket-song and the buzzing of cicadas keeping their ears occupied. Inaho's breathing has returned to somewhat normal, heart finally slowing down. The wind has started to pick up, lifting leaves and small blades of grass into the air and pushing them along.

And then, voice barely audible, Slaine mumbles, “Happy birthday.”

Inaho blinks at that, heart swelling in his chest. He smiles somewhat as he gazes at the faery, features softening. “Thank you, Slaine,” he says softly, “Seeing you was the best present I've received today.”

All day, he could only think about how much he wished he could be with Slaine instead of at the castle with guests he does not even know or care about.

Slaine's face goes red. “Shut up,” he murmurs, throwing an arm over his eyes, “I didn't even get you an actual present.”

“Then I'd like a kiss,” Inaho says almost instantly, “I'd like to kiss your hand.”

The opportunity presented itself. Why _not_ ask?

Slaine's blush deepens tenfold. Remaining motionless under – he assumes – Inaho's gaze, he swallows a hard ball of surprise. _He has no shame,_ he thinks, the tips of his ears are burning, he knows it, and it is all Inaho's fault for being so shamelessly blunt.

“.. it.. would make me happy if you allowed me to.”

 _Happy..?_ Slaine thinks, cheeks burning.

Inaho rarely words things that way.

Slaine remains immobile for just a few moments more before raising his hand, “I'll allow that.”

His voice comes out just above a whisper, and with his arm no longer shielding his eyes, he finds Inaho beaming down at him.

Inaho gingerly takes Slaine's hand in his own, presses his lips to the blond's palm, his fingertips. He smiles against Slaine's fingers, a gentle, warm smile that has Slaine tensing up in shock.

Swallowing, the faery's heart rises to his throat.

_This wasn't a good idea._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on this for a few weeks.. and I'm finally happy enough with part one. ;;
> 
> But anyway, uh, this is my take on a certain fairy tale! I've been wanting to write them in a fairy tale setting, so.. That certain fairy tale will be revealed in part two.


	2. Chapter 2

“ _What did you_ **do** _to me?” Slaine demands, visibly trembling as he glares at the older woman. He no longer gives a damn that she is feeble, weak, having realised she was just toying with him. He procures a fistful of blue flower petals from his pocket and throws them at her feet, trying to at least not_ scream _at her. “I was about to go to sleep last night when I started coughing, and I coughed up these. What did you do to me,_ **human** _?” he hisses, voice practically seething hatred._

_The woman smiles somewhat, not at all scared of the faery. After all, he is disguised as a human boy right now, hiding his fey features with red hair and darkened skin; if he attempts to use magick, his cover will be blown. “As I said yesterday, you'll soon find love,” she says easily, as if none of this is her fault._

It is. It is her fault.

 _He has_ **never** _been this angry. Putting a spell on him without his consent or knowledge? If she were a faery, he could have her tried in the courts for doing something so_ wrong. _“I. Wasn't. Looking,” he says, enunciating each word carefully, making sure the woman understands him. “What did you do to me?” he asks for a third time, still having not received a proper answer._

“ _The spell will enable you to find your love.”_

“ _Who?” he asks, voice rising, “Who?”_

“ _I'm afraid I don't know. You're going to have to find out for yourself, my dear,” the woman murmurs, picking up the petals. Her features do not shift from that eerie, peaceful calm she has on. “I wasn't able to replicate the spell perfectly, unfortunately. Its potency depends wholly on you. If you deny it, then the effect will start to turn harmful.”_

“ _You're..” Slaine's hands ball into tight fists, “Undo the spell.”_

“ _I can't.”_

“ _I'm not asking,” Slaine says, “Undo it.”_

*

_Inaho blinks upon seeing a boy, a bit older than himself, speaking with the residential witch. He had thought that most people would know to avoid her by now; most everyone knows her spells lead to nothing but disaster. “Red hair,” he murmurs to himself, not able to recall anyone in particular with that odd shade of red._

A foreigner, then? _he wonders, noting that the redhead is dressed rather plainly, although he has no shoes on,_ He seems upset.

_He watches curiously as the redhead demands a few more times for her to undo the spell, getting angrier with each passing denial, frame shaking with rage. He has never seen someone this angry before. Even when he had sat with Yuki-nee through a meeting full of disgruntled diplomats and ambassadors._

This person is beyond angry.

“ _He looks like he's going to cry,” Inaho realises after a moment, noting that the trembling in his frame is slightly off: the redhead is not trying to hold back from hitting her, he is trying to stay composed, trying not to break down in tears._

“ _Damn it!”_

_Inaho blinks at the voice, and watches as the redhead runs away, toward the city centre. He watches after him for a second, gaze flickering back to the witch._

_He had not seen the redhead's face._

* * *

 

The flowers leave his lips tasting bittersweet, like tea, or some sort of candy that has yet to be sweetened properly.

It still has yet to hurt when he coughs up the flowers, still has yet to affect him in some way.

 _But that witch.._ Slaine remembers bitterly, glaring up at his ceiling, _I'm going to be in a lot of pain because of that human._ A messy pile of petals and flowers lie discarded beside him, on the floor. He has been coughing more, recently, had noticed the amount of flower petals increase after Inaho's birthday a few weeks ago.

_I'm.. going to.._

He sighs, bringing his fingers to his lips.

_Getting involved with a human.. wasn't a good idea._

* * *

 

When Inaho thinks about it, _really_ thinks about it, he supposes the way he feels about Slaine _could,_ in some part, _could_ have been love at first sight.

Not that he had known it, initially.

He had only known that Yuki-nee gave him permission to wed whomever he wishes – he is second in line as well as spoiled by her, and a marriage to someone high on the ladder is not inherently necessary – and he knows that the first step toward marriage is being interested in someone.

He is interested in Slaine. He is interested in the faery to the point of thoughtless adoration.

 _It's not infatuation,_ Inaho realises, not a short lived-crush. If it had been childish infatuation, he would have realised he did not _really_ want to marry Slaine, and would have stopped asking.

But this.. this feeling is distinctly _not_ infatuation.

_I really do.._

* * *

 

Inaho awakens to a folded up piece of parchment beside his head, an unusual sight considering the guards never come into his room, and his sister would wake him up if she wanted to give him something – even something as simple as a letter. He gets up slowly, gently rubbing an eye with one hand and grabbing the letter with another, vision still adjusting to the dim light trickling in through the open window.. Tensing up suddenly, his gaze fixes to the window he had only glanced at. It is cracked open, just a little bit, as if it had been opened from the outside.

It had definitely been shut last night.

As per Yuki's request, he _always_ keeps it locked at night, when he is asleep. It locks from the inside..

“Ah,” Inaho breathes, a smile pulling at his lips.

Not only is the window locked, but Inaho's room is rather high off of the ground. Not high enough to be considered a second floor, but just enough that it is hard to reach.

 _Unless they had used magick,_ he realises, starting to open the letter, _Perhaps Slaine..?_

Blinking at the contents, the thought perishes.

_He couldn't have written this._

 

 

“Ah! Nao! Good morning!”

Turning at the familiar voice, Inaho finds himself gazing up at his older sister, who has a happy grin on her lips.

She is dressed far more elegantly than Inaho ever is, her status as reigning queen forces her to keep up appearances that Inaho otherwise does not care for. Like Inaho, she has a similar circlet around her head, though hers is a bit more feminine: silver twisted and turned to look like cherry blossoms dot a thin chain of gold, and the circlet instead rests on her head rather than shaped to fit her, the loose band held up by her ears. Her clothing as well, is more elaborate compared to the simple – as simple clothing Inaho can obtain, at any rate – clothing that Inaho wanders around in. It is mostly a purple palette, ranging in shades from lavender to plum, though a few of the layers as well as her sash are dyed a shiny shade of gold. She usually wears purple, most likely an effort to reinforce her position as queen.

“You aren't going to be hot?” Inaho asks, gesturing to her garment, “You're wearing many layers today, Yuki-nee..”

Yuki's softens, shaking her head a bit as she gazes at her younger brother. “I'll be fine. I've been using the fan you bought me, Nao,” she hums, pulling said object from her sleeve: she waves it slightly in front of him, its silver coloured frame catching the morning light.

Inaho smiles a bit at that, happy that she has a way of staying cool despite the layers she has to wear even in the growing heat. “Ah..” He pauses for a moment, pulling a letter out of his own sleeve, “Yuki-nee.. did you leave me this letter?” He holds it out for her, waiting patiently as she deposits the fan back in her garment before she takes the parchment.

“I.. didn't, no,” Yuki answers, shaking her head again, “Perhaps it's from that person? The one you've been asking to marry you?” She sounds a bit eager, hoping that Inaho will one day soon bring this person home and introduce them to her.

“I thought that as well, but they don't know the language this is written in,” Inaho says, taking the letter back when Yuki holds it out for him. He folds it back to its original size and hides it the sash at his stomach instead, not wanting to lose it when he goes to the forest.

Yuki smiles somewhat, reaching out to smooth Inaho's hair. “Speaking of that person..” she says softly, “You've been considerate, I hope?”

“I don't ask them as often, like you advised,” Inaho answers, standing immobile for her; he makes no comment or effort to stop the affectionate action, and does not look at all bothered.

Originally, she had advised him to propose to the very first person he found himself interested in – the only catch was he had to be interested _enough_ to put forth the effort into getting to know them.

And.. that person had been Slaine. Inaho finds Slaine immenselyinteresting, and has found that he is not daunted at all by the task of getting to know him better. In fact, the task makes him happy. It gives him the drive to go to the forest each and every day to visit the faery.

However, after confiding to the queen that _someone_ had been rejecting all hundred and some plus of his proposals, she had advised that he perhaps lay off the question.

“ _You don't want to put them off,”_ is what Yuki had said. Although eager to see Inaho with someone he is happy with, she was worried the constant badgering would cause Inaho's friend to abandon him.

Yuki would be _crushed_ if Inaho came home one day, if he told her that his special person had finally had enough and left him. She is also nervous on the effect it would have on the younger brunet, not sure if Inaho's mental state would be effected by such a thing; Inaho does not have very many friends, and the ones he does have are temporarily out of the city on business, have been for a few months now.

Continuing to smooth Inaho's hair, the queen hums quietly to herself, giving the dilemma some thought.

Inaho has not actually told her that the person he is interested in is a faery, or even the fact that Slaine is male, just that he is determined to marry them.

“You really like this person, huh..?” Yuki asks softly, earning a slight nod.

Inaho only speaks of them in the highest light; he has told Yuki of how beautiful the colour of their eyes are, how sometimes they are indulgent enough to give in and tell Inaho of their culture, how happy it makes him to be around this person..

She has never heard Inaho say anything negative about them. “I hope they understand your feelings, Nao,” she murmurs, smile turning bittersweet, “I would love for you to get a happy ending.”

“Me too,” Inaho says, “I want that, too. I want to make them happy.”

 

 

“Slaine?” Inaho calls quietly, keeping his voice down just in case there are other faeries around. He has yet to meet anyone but Slaine, but the faery has repeatedly insisted that there _are_ in fact others around, they just.. are in hiding.

“ _Try not to wander around by yourself for too long. The others always hide from you whenever you come around, but if you're here for too long without me..”_

He had not actually said what the other faeries might do to him, and has not actually given it any thought as he has found Slaine every day for months without fail.

_Today, however.._

He has been wandering for hours now, has checked all their usual spots: the small field where they first met, where Inaho first proposed, the pond that Slaine uses to wash his wings, the meadow with logs strewn about it..

_I can't find him._

There are no letters from the faery lying about, no clues as to his whereabouts, Slaine is just..

.. nowhere.

Inaho's heart falters at the thought; he has grown used to seeing Slaine every day, has not even thought about what might happen if Slaine were to simply remove himself from his life. Seeing Slaine has become a routine: a nice, familiar, _safe_ routine that has been so suddenly interrupted and broken. He has not needed to think about doing anything else, because Slaine's presence was a given. He knew he would be able to find the faery in the forest, knew where to look.

But.. now that he thinks about it..

It would be easy, for the faery. To disappear without a trace, without saying anything..

It would be so _ridiculously_ easy, and the mere possibility causes Inaho's heart to ache.

 _Slaine wouldn't do that,_ he tells himself, shaking his head slightly, _He wouldn't do that._

_Because he's a good person.._

 

 

Inaho goes home that day, more determined than ever to earn Slaine's hand in marriage.

* * *

 

Bringing his hands to his mouth, Slaine finds himself suddenly coughing into them; dread has taken hold in the pits of his stomach, forcing him to cough up the bittersweet forget-me-not petals that rest somewhere within him. The coughs are violent, now, leave Slaine unable to breathe between coughs, leave him breathless and teary-eyed.

When he pulls his hands away, they are shaking, and dozens of flower petals coat his hand, layered upon each other, covered in some sort of sticky.. –

“E-eh..?” Slaine stammers, heart rising to his throat.

_This is what she meant by harmful._

* * *

 

On the third day of Slaine's disappearance, Inaho is lying in the field where they first met, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the dim forest light.

The forest is unusually dark and cool, the sea of leaves and tangled branches above blocking most of the actual sunlight. The grass is still warm, somehow, the light somehow just enough for a normal human to see after a few minutes of exposure. Despite the cool feeling in the air, the trees nor flowers nor animals seem to be chilled, and Inaho does not actually feel cold in spite of being easily chilled. How anything grows here _would_ be a mystery, but the presence of the faeries seem to help the forest flourish.

 _Have_ helped the forest flourish.

Their magick seems to keep the plants and animals healthy, serving as natural fertilizer, natural _life._ Inaho has seen the after-effects of Slaine's magick firsthand: the discarded forget-me-not petals turn into full blossoms after only a few days, and then go on to populate the surrounding area with blue bulbs. Their magick keeps the forest alive.

It is cool, but the plants are warm, the ground is not damp, and the water runs somewhere between lukewarm and cool, never cold.

Inaho remains motionless on the ground, dark eyes gazing vacantly upward at what little parts of the sky peek from between the forest canopy.

Three days.

It has been three days since he has seen Slaine, and instead of sulking, he has decided to wait patiently for the faery's return.

 _Because Slaine will return,_ he tells himself, letting his eyes slip shut, _He'll return and I'll be right here waiting._

 

 

“.. up..”

In his sleep, Inaho feels something hit his head, hard.

It stings.

“.. up, you lazy prince!”

Again. Something hard like a rock hits his forehead, this time, just above his eye.

This hurts a little more, though the tiny object is not enough to deliver actual pain.

“Wake up!”

Startled, Inaho sits up at the demanding voice, and finds himself surrounded by least two dozen acorns. They are scattered where his head had been, though a few lie in the grass between where his arm and chest had been.

“Are you really such a heavy sleeper? I've been throwing acorns at you for the past fifteen minutes!”

_Ah.._

Raising his head, Inaho easily locates the sound of the voice: Slaine is sitting on a tree branch across from him, high up in the air. He is holding something, and a frown rests on his features.

Inaho finds himself staring, taken by surprise by Slaine's odd appearance.

Unlike usual, Slaine is wearing actual clothing – _expensive_ clothing, Inaho notes – coloured in varying shades of blue and accented with silver. He has a jacket on, with actual sleeves decorated in some sort of silver filament. It only reaches just above his stomach, his waist and the small of his back exposed to allow his wings to be unhindered. Despite the formal jacket and pants he has on, he still lacks proper shoes.

Slaine holds his hands out and lets something fall from his hands.

“You were throwing acorns at me?” Inaho asks, frowning somewhat as he watches the brown things fall to the ground.

“You wouldn't wake up,” Slaine says, his own frown deepening, “There could have been a fire and you wouldn't have stirred.”

 _He's teasing me,_ Inaho realises, not commenting further, _He just got back, and.._ “Why are you dressed like that?” he asks, changing the subject.

Slaine looks down at his attire, as if he had forgot what he had been wearing. “I was dancing, at the ball,” he says, brushing a tuft of platinum out of his face.

Something glints in the moonlight, something shiny just above his ear.

“You didn't get my letter?”

“Letter..?” Inaho echoes, confusion flickering across his face, “What letter?”

Slaine allows himself to slip off of the tree branch, too quickly for Inaho to react properly. He lands on his feet, fortunately, and almost appears to be _hovering_ over the grass before his feet actually meet it. “I left it by your head,” he says, walking toward the brunet. He crouches down beside him, unwittingly allowing Inaho to look at him closer, “You didn't get it?”

The shiny glint, Inaho realises, is a silver circlet that goes round Slaine's head. It is hidden by his bangs and varying amounts of hair, thanks to the layers, but some silver peeks out between stray strands.

_It looks like mine._

Disregarding the circlet for now, Inaho shifts his gaze to Slaine's face. “Are you..” he pauses to pull something from the sash at his belt, “.. talking about this?” He holds the letter up; it seems he kept it anyway, despite having no idea who had written it.

“Yes, that,” Slaine nods, smiling suddenly. “I even wrote it in your language, using those characters, which was very difficult, by the way!” he says, beaming, “You should be grateful.”

Inaho's breath hitches at the sight of Slaine's smile, having never seen the faery show him one without mischievousness or smugness. _He's proud of himself,_ he realises, heart in his throat.

Pride has never looked so beautiful.

Inaho gives himself a moment to adore Slaine's smile before he crushes the feeling. “You.. didn't write it in my language,” he says softly, trying to keep his expression blank when Slaine's smile falters and slips.

“What?”

“You wrote it using Chinese characters.. so I was unable to read it,” Inaho says, fingers pulling at the grass, “I appreciate the effort you put, however.”

The disappointment on Slaine's face stings far more than the acorns that had hit him.

“Oh..” Slaine murmurs, lowering himself so that he is on his knees, now, “I see. I used the wrong characters..” His voice is softer than usual, laced with the same disappointment that has his eyes narrowed.

Inaho stays quiet for a second, leaning forward hesitantly, “Your handwriting is nice. Though I was unable to read the letter, it was fairly obvious you put forth a great amount of time and effort into making sure it was legible. I'll keep it in a frame in my room.”

At that, Slaine makes a face. “That's creepy,” he mumbles, though a smile pulls at his lips.

His disappointment fades, and he says nothing when Inaho's fingertips brush against his hand.

“You said you were dancing?”

“At the ball, yes,” Slaine answers, nodding, “Once in awhile, all faeries are required to return to the realm and participate in a large-scale ball. It's a three day affair. I wrote that I'd be gone for three days.”

 _That explains the clothing.. perhaps,_ Inaho muses, gaze flickering back to the silver circlet, _Would a normal faery wear something like that?_

“And you had to get dressed up?”

Slaine visibly tenses at the question, looking reluctant to answer. “I.. erm.. usually dress this way when I'm over there,” he says after a moment, and though it is a plausible answer, the fact that he hesitated makes it suspicious. His gaze slips, and he pulls at his hair again, exposing a bit more of the circlet. It seems to be decorated with silver leaves, similar to a wreath, and like his clothing, seems to expensive for a normal faery to wear.

“Why are you..–”

Before Inaho can finish, Slaine starts to cough, pain replacing the worry.

The coughs are different.

Inaho realises the fact immediately and adjusts himself, leaning forward to gently grasp Slaine's trembling shoulders, trying to keep him steady.

_He's coughing violently._

It sounds painful.

Crimson flower petals slip from Slaine's hands, and he is too busy gasping for air to notice.

Inaho does. “You're.. coughing up rose petals, now?” he asks, pulling a hand away to pick one up.

“Ah! N-no, do–.. don't..!” Slaine tries to say between coughs, though he is too slow to respond.

Inaho freezes up when the red flower petal sticks to his fingers, the red thing too warm, too sticky, and lacking in the waxy feeling of a normal petal. “This is blood..”

_He's coughing up blood._

Slaine continues to cough into his hands, a few more petals slipping to their knees, the blue splattered with a red that should not be there. His eyes start to fill with tears from a lack of air, face flushing, frame still trembling.

And then, just as suddenly as he had started, the coughing stops.

Pulling his hands away, Slaine gasps weakly at the sight. There are more petals than before, most of them painted red with his blood. They stick to his palms, petals caked upon each other, and the blue that does peek out serves as a painful reminder that this started out normally enough. He raises his head a bit, meeting Inaho's wide eyes.

“You're.. coughing.. blood,” Inaho says slowly, voice barely a whisper, “How long.. have you..?”

Slaine very nearly makes a run for it, stopped by Inaho's hands on his wrists, preventing him from getting up and bolting.

“How long?” Inaho asks again.

“Three days,” Slaine answers, “It.. it started the day I returned to my realm.” His voice is ragged, breathless; his chest is heaving as he struggles to regulate his breathing, the coughing having drained him of his energy.

Inaho's grip tightens on Slaine's wrist, and he resists the urge to scold him.

_You should have come back and told me._

“What happened?”

_You said you were fine. That it didn't hurt._

“I.. suppose I should.. tell you the truth,” Slaine says, “The truth about.. about that spell.”

 

 

“It was.. a locator spell?”

“.. kind of,” Slaine murmurs, unable to look Inaho in the eye. He has been explaining the circumstances regarding their current situation, having started from the very beginning: when he met that old woman in the forest. “It's.. more like.. Think of it similar to a fish lure,” he says quietly, hesitant and careful with his words, “I'm the lure, and.. you're the fish. Because of the spell, we.. were drawn together.” He pauses, and then shakes his head, “No, think of.. think of us like magnets, instead. Opposing magnets. Because of the spell, you and I were drawn together forcefully.. rather than naturally meeting. Our meeting was not chance.”

“That doesn't explain why you don't believe I love you,” Inaho points out, his words causing Slaine to tense up. He sits beside the blond, both of them having moved away from the space they were in before; it was stained with the crimson petals and blood-smeared grass that Slaine had tried to wipe his hands on.

It had not worked as planned. Slaine's palms are still somewhat bloody, though it has dried, now.

“She said.. she tried to replicate a spell from a human tale. The story ' _Diamonds and Frogs_ '. Have.. have you read it?” Slaine asks, raising his head just enough to glance at Inaho's face.

“No.”

“In that story.. a human girl comes upon an elderly woman in the woods, and seeing that the woman is ailing, gives her water drawn from a nearby well.. It turns out that the woman is a witch, and she blesses the girl so that whenever she speaks.. flowers and jewels fall from her lips..” Slaine explains, “A prince hears about the girl's condition, and comes to see her.. he ends up falling in love with her, and they marry.”

_Ah._

Suddenly, Slaine's attitude toward him make much more sense. “You believe that the woman who cast the spell on you chose me because of my title.”

Slaine nods somewhat, gaze slipping back to the grass. “I.. don't believe someone would fall so easily for me. And they certainly wouldn't propose a day after meeting me.. You _have_ to be under a spell. That's.. that's the only logical conclusion..” he whispers, hands balling into tight fists, “That's.. the only way I'd believe..”

Inaho adjusts himself, hugging his knees to his chest. “.. rather than me being under a spell..” he says slowly, “.. what if.. instead, the spell she cast.. didn't make me fall in love with you, but rather.. allowed me to realise that the person I wanted to marry.. was you?” He gazes at a small patch of forget-me-not flowers a few feet away from them, planted at the base of the tree Slaine had been sitting in. “The spell.. didn't make me fall for you,” he says, “Because we were.. meant to be together from the start.”

“Wh.. what?” Slaine asks, turning to gaze at the other, shock clear in his tone, “How could.. how did you even come to that conclusion?”

“I'm sure you know that forget-me-nots symbolise ' _true love_ ', as well as ' _loyalty in spite of challenge_ ' and ' _growing affection_ ', among other meanings.. Do you believe the woman who cast the spell on you chose that specific flower by chance?” Inaho also turns his head, looking completely serious. “I think she chose it so that we would understand.. that we're supposed to be together. Because, you're my..–”

“I'm not,” Slaine interrupts, shaking his head, “You can't seriously.. believe..”

“You said the effects of the spell would grow worse if you continued to deny the fact that my feelings for you are real, that they would turn harmful. Isn't that proof enough that I truly love you?” Inaho asks, frowning now, “What else can I do to make you understand that I truly have feelings for you?” His nails lightly dig into his knees, frustrated that he cannot seem to do anything to fix the problem.

Slaine's gaze slips again. He lightly bites his bottom lip, blinking back tears. “I just.. I truly believed your feelings for me were an illusion, the product of the spell.. I believed.. and lied to myself.. because I was afraid.. Afraid of what would happen if.. if your feelings were real..” he whispers, shaking his head again.

“Are you still afraid?” Inaho asks, “That I might.. hurt you, or.. that this really is the product of a spell?”

“Yes,” Slaine answers, burying his face in his knees, “If we did get married.. and this turned out to be a façade on her part.. I don't know what I'd..”

Inaho goes quiet.

_This is why he kept pushing me away. Why he treated things like a joke.. He didn't want to get hurt.._

And yet..

“I want.. to be by your side,” Inaho murmurs, “I want to.. make you happy.. give you a happy ending.. like in the story..” He watches Slaine tense up again, “Is that.. what you want?”

“.. I.. don't know,” Slaine admits, “I don't.. know what.. what I want..” His voice comes out soft, too soft, too shaky, too weak.

_He doesn't want to get hurt._

Inaho shifts slightly, dark eyes trying to catch teal. “About the flowers..” he says softly, “Are you.. always going to be coughing them up?”

“She.. said the effect wouldn't go away, but.. the harmful effects would disappear.. once I accepted your feelings,” Slaine answers.

“You don't have to reciprocate them?”

“.. I'm.. not sure..”

Inaho gazes at the other, heart aching.

_The flowers are hurting him._

“.. you.. already make me happy,” Slaine murmurs, cheeks flushing a light shade of pink, “You.. come to see me every day.. even though I tell you not to.. and.. you've taught me a lot about humans.. Before you came here.. I was mostly alone.. so.. having you here..” He is still speaking quietly, slowly, though has seemed to calmed down a bit. Smiling somewhat, he rests his cheek against his knee, “I'm grateful for your presence, despite.. how I've acted.”

Inaho returns the smile, relaxing with Slaine's comments, though it falters upon Slaine coughing quietly into his hand.

Pulling his hand away, Slaine reveals a single _blue_ petal. “Ah..”

“It.. isn't bloody..” Inaho breathes, wide eyes rising to meet Slaine's own.

Slaine's cheeks darken. He nearly crushes the petal in his hand, stopping just before he does. “.. here,” he murmurs, holding it out, “I want you to have it.”

Inaho takes it carefully, relieved to find that it is waxy and soft. “.. thank you, Slaine,” he says softly, “I'll put it in a locket and wear it.”

“.. that's.. still kind of creepy,” Slaine teases, though the smile on his lips says he is happy with the decision.

* * *

 

“.. I've.. figured out what I want,” Slaine says two weeks later, toying with the locket that rests around Inaho's neck. He opens and closes it repeatedly as if it were some sort of odd invention, though he is careful not to let the single blue petal inside fall out.

Inaho remains motionless as Slaine does so, not wanting to startle him with any sudden movement. “You have?” he asks, earning a nod.

“I want.. to stay by your side, too. I'd.. I would be happy if we were together,” Slaine murmurs, cheeks dusted pink.

“Does that mean you'll agree to marry me?”

“No. Not.. not yet,” Slaine answers, smiling somewhat, “You have to court me, first.”

Inaho hums at that, finding no issue with the condition; he still gets to marry Slaine, but he will get to know him better, first. “Alright,” he says, “Does this mean we're together, then?”

Slaine's cheeks darken a shade as he nods again, closing the locket. He allows it to fall back against Inaho's collarbone, exchanging his grip on the necklace for Inaho's hand. “I.. I'm not sure how humans go about this, but.. I will be yours, and you will be mine,” he says softly, gently squeezing the prince's hand, “Is that.. alright?”

“That's fine,” Inaho says, returning the smile, then. He relaxes into an affectionate smile as he gazes at the faery, happy that Slaine is no longer denying his feelings. “I promise I'll give you a happy ending,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss the back of Slaine's hand.

Slaine breathes out a sigh of relief, his own smile widening. “I.. think I might love you, Inaho,” he murmurs in return, the words gentle.

“I love you, too, Slaine.”

 


End file.
